


Color Me Love (Color Me Blind)

by DLanaDHZ



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Soulmate - Colors, Soulmates, birthday party aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 09:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16426751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLanaDHZ/pseuds/DLanaDHZ
Summary: In a world where you can see every color except the color of your soul mate’s eyes until you meet them, Lance wakes up the morning after his twenty-first birthday party suddenly able to see shades of blue and gray he’d never known. The only problem? He can’t remember a thing that happened last night.





	Color Me Love (Color Me Blind)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I know there is some debate on the color of Keith’s eyes. For the purpose of this fic, we’re going with blue-gray.

Lance rubbed his eyes and groaned. His head ached, his nose was sore, and his mouth tasted like dirty socks, and he really didn’t want to know why. The morning sun stabbed through the broken blinds of his living room window and poked Lance until he gave in and pushed himself up to a sitting position.

 

He was on his couch, though he didn’t remember getting there. In fact, he didn’t really remember anything from last night after his fourth drink. To be fair, it was his twenty-first birthday and everyone else had picked his drinks, and he was pretty sure three of them had been straight layered alcohol, no juice or anything to weaken them. Based on his head, they had not been his last drinks either.

 

Reaching around the couch cushions for his phone, he momentarily panicked when he couldn’t find it, but then he spotted it peeking out from under the couch. There was a lipstick mark on the back of the phone case, but his screen wasn’t cracked so he counted the night a win. After he clicked the power button, the clock glared up at him, as if it was his mother and highly disappointed that he’d slept until nearly ten in the morning. At least the phone couldn’t throw things at him.

 

He had several happy birthday texts from people that he hadn’t seen the night before and a few from this morning. With another groan, he pushed off the couch and hobbled into his kitchen to find coffee. Coffee would cure his hangover, right? He’d never had one before, so he couldn’t be sure, but part of him vaguely recalled someone drinking coffee on a TV show to cure hangovers, so it must work.

 

He had his second-favorite mug in hand and was reaching for the coffee pot when he noticed it. ‘It’ being the color of the mug. He’d thought the mug was a weird gray. He’d been wrong. Reflex had him grabbing the mug from the cabinet without looking, but it only took him a moment to realize the mug in his hand was not gray but a vibrant blue.

 

With an undignified squeal, Lance dropped the mug like a poisonous snake and then jumped back to avoid the shattered pieces that came skidding toward him. So much for his second-favorite mug.

 

But why? Why was it different? What-

 

Lance gasped. “No. No, no, no, no, no. This can NOT be happening!” he exclaimed and ran back to the couch. He snatched up his phone and checked his Facebook. Augh! So much blue! It was everywhere! But there were no new images on his feed. No new friends. A few check-ins, but no tags. Shit. Instagram? Crap. He hadn’t set one up yet! Damn it!

 

Panicking, he checked his last dialed number and then clicked to call it again. Three rings went by before the line was picked up.

 

“Pidge!” Lance exclaimed before his friend could greet him. “Pidge, something terrible has happened!”

 

“H-Hang on,” she groaned. “It’s too early for me to process your crazy alone. Let me go grab Hunk.”

 

Lance paced as Pidge shuffled her way into her roommate’s bedroom and tried to wake him. By the sound of it, she was having a hard time of it. Lance tugged on his hair. He didn’t have time for this! But then maybe it would be better to have both of them on the line. Then he could ask them both at the same time.

 

He froze. Gasping, he turned to his broken blinds and ripped them open, bending one of the busted slats even worse.

 

“Pidge! The sky is blue!” he exclaimed and turned in several sloppy circles, unable to contain his shock and nerves.

 

“Yes, Lance? What about it?” Pidge asked, annoyed. “Hunk, seriously. I need you to help mediate this.”

 

“Pidge! You don’t- You don’t understand! Pidge, the sky. Is. Blue! It’s blue!” Logically, he’d known that. They were taught in school that the sky was blue. But Lance had never truly understood what that color was, and now it was everywhere! It stretched over the tops of the buildings. He could see it through tree branches and reflected in windows! He turned away from the sky and squeaked. He had so much blue stuff in his apartment!

 

On the other end of the call, Pidge seemed to realize why the color of the sky mattered, and she hit Hunk so hard that he cried out in alarm.

 

“Shut up, Hunk. I think Lance met his soul mate!”

 

“What?! You shut up. How do we know?!” Hunk was wide awake now, and Lance heard the difference in sound as Pidge put him on speaker phone. Lance switched ears so he could pull on a different part of his head as he went crazy.

 

“Lance is freaking out about blue stuff,” she said.

 

Hunk squealed in delight. “Oh my gosh! That is amazing! Lance, you met your soul mate?!”

 

“Wait.” Pidge’s voice dropped all excitement. “You said something terrible had happened. How is this terrible?”

 

Lance kicked his couch and pretended his groan of anguish was merely the pain of stubbing his toe. “Guys, I’m alone. In my apartment. And I don’t remember anything from last night after the taco place! How am I supposed to find my soul mate a second time?!”

 

“Maybe,” Pidge began but hesitated.

 

“Maybe your soul mate wasn’t as drunk as you and remembers you?” Hunk offered helpfully.

 

“Y-Yeah!” Pidge didn’t sound convinced, and neither was Lance.

 

“How about we start with you guys running me through everything you remember from last night,” he said.

 

He felt desperate. Last night, he and several friends had gone club hopping to celebrate his birthday. Even if he’d met his soul mate at one of the clubs, he couldn’t remember the clubs! And there had been four of them! Four that he had stamps on his wrist for, at least.

 

With Pidge and Hunk’s help, he pieced together the start of the night. The group had met at Lance’s place before hopping in a cab and heading downtown. They grabbed food and drinks at a bar, where the last member of their group had joined them late. It was all people Lance knew in the group, so none of them were his soul mate. Blue wasn’t a vibrant color when he left the bar, so it wasn’t the employees.

 

They walked to the Garrison, the club down the street, and that’s where Lance lost all lucid memory. He remembered the bouncer stamping his wrist. He remembered the strangely militarized theme of the bar. And he remembered Matt, Pidge’s brother, buying him a drink that came in a themed cup. It looked like a fighter pilot’s hat, kinda, and equaled the size of two of Pidge’s first drink. Lance downed it in the same amount of time as she took to drink hers.

 

They danced. Lance flirted with the bartender. There was a toast to something, probably Lance’s birthday. Lance vaguely remembered slipping off his chair and hitting the floor. Beyond that, he had nothing.

 

According to Pidge and Hunk, the group migrated to a third venue shortly after Lance’s fall. They chose a bar, The Balmera, so the music would be softer and Lance could eat something again. The night was young and no one wanted to stop. Who stopped a twenty-first birthday at midnight? No one, that’s who. The food and rest seemed to help, though ‘rest’ was a loose term since they never really stopped dancing or flirting or drinking. Then they were off to their last stop.

 

There was one last club to visit if you were gonna do a birthday right – the Fripping Bulgogian. It sounded vaguely Korean, but they didn’t serve bulgogi, and apparently Lance had been very upset about this. He’d gotten into an argument with one of the bartenders about it, and a second bartender had to deescalate the situation so Lance wouldn’t get kicked out.

 

“I was pretty hammered by the last place,” Hunk admitted. “But you didn’t seem surprised by anything blue at the second bar, so maybe you didn’t meet the person until the Bulgogian?”

 

“Yeah, Matt was the designated sober person, and I don’t have any texts about someone finding a soul mate. But I know the group was starting to split up a bit by then, so it’s possible he didn’t notice. Or maybe you were too drunk to notice either and so you didn’t say anything. Either way, I’d check out the Fripping Bulgogian and see if anyone recognizes you. Maybe it’s the bartender you were screaming at.” Pidge sounded far too interested in the possibility, so Lance cut her off.

 

“Great. Cool. Thanks. I’ll call you guys later!” and Lance hung up before Pidge could throw in a last minute tease.

 

Dressing was weird – hell everything was weird. His clothes looked the same but different, and he had to triple check that he was grabbing the actual pants he wanted. Theoretically Lance had always known what was blue and what wasn’t blue, but really he’d only known it as ‘that slightly different gray’. Now he saw BLUE, in all its shades and wonders. It was incredible! It was also extremely disorientating.

 

Wallet and cell phone in his pockets, Lance sprinted out his front door, stunned once more by the fact that the hallway was blue too! He was so flabbergasted that he kept spinning in circles on his way to the elevator and ended up dizzy. He hit the button for the elevator but then lost his balance and fell into the door for the first apartment.

 

Unfortunately, the door had just opened, so he pretty much slammed the door back in the owner’s face.

 

“Hey-!” came the muffled voice from inside.

 

“S-Sorry!” Lance exclaimed as the elevator dinged open. “It was an accident!”

 

He tripped slightly on his way into the elevator and had to catch himself on the rail on the inside. The apartment door opened again, and a cautious head poked out. Dark mullet hair, pale skin, sharp nose, red jacket. Lance was surprised he had such an attractive neighbor. The young man lived only three doors down, but he must be new because Lance had never seen him before. Great first impression – slamming a door in the guy’s face.

 

The elevator doors began to shut as the young man finally stepped fully into the hall, a set of motorcycle keys dangling in his fingers. He narrowed his eyes in totally-understandable-anger as he turned toward the elevator, probably intending to shout at Lance about the door. But he didn’t. Shout, that is. Lance looked away as soon as the other guy tried to level that glare on him, as if not looking would mean the other guy couldn’t see him either. But of course the guy could see him.

 

“Hey-.” He didn’t sound angry. Maybe he was one of those quiet angry people? “Hey-!”

 

But the doors had shut on the elevator, closing Lance off from the confrontation. He let out a sigh of relief and sagged against the back wall. Great start to the day. World’s worst hang over. Disorientating new colors. Terrible first impressions for the new hot guy in the complex.

 

“Now hang on a minute, Sanchez. You can’t go flirting with random people anymore, you know?” he said to himself, crossing his arms and glaring at the metal door. “What’s your soul mate gonna say if you try telling him you almost crushed some guy’s hand in his front door – oh yeah and by the way, the guy was smoking? Your soul mate’s gonna be pissed, that’s what. So zip your lip and get a handle on those eyes, dummy!”

 

Right. He had a mission to complete! He didn’t have time to be distracted! He had to find his soul mate! Again! And this time it was going to be harder than the first time, because he couldn’t even count on a color shift to tell him when he was right. Hopefully his soul mate hadn’t also been hammered, or they were both screwed.

 

As soon as the doors to the elevator opened, Lance sprinted across the lobby and out to the street. He hailed a cab with ease and rattled off the address to the Fripping Bulgogian. Hopefully they didn’t remember him too well, since Pidge said he apparently tried to start a fight, but also hopefully they remembered him extremely well and could tell him who he’d bumped into before he discovered a whole new color.

 

The club itself was unassuming. From outside it looked like you might be walking into a storage unit with a very impressive sign. Inside, it was a tricked out sci-fi bar, perfect for all the beautiful nerds in the world. At least it was at night. At eleven in the morning, it was a ghost town.

 

The door was unlocked, so Lance let himself in. All the chairs were up on the tables, and someone was in a second room listening to music on their phone and buffing the floor. Glancing around, Lance tried to recall any memory from the night before, but he got nothing. Not even a blip. The décor was cool, but not lit up and neon like it would be in the dark. The speakers around the room were silent, and someone had swept up all the confetti from the club activities. Lance didn’t remember any of the confetti cannons, but he’d never been to a club without a few.

 

“Can I help you?” a man asked, appearing from the employee-only back room. The guy with the buffer in the second room didn’t notice a thing.

 

The new addition to the room was a strong built man, almost a head taller than Lance and older by a few years – maybe twenty-five. He had dark hair, but he’d dyed the center strip of his hair white so that his bangs hung down like an encroaching ice shelf. His eyes were brown, or maybe dark gray. It was hard to tell in the lighting, but the point was that they weren’t blue.

 

“Yeah, hey. I was here last night and-,” Lance began.

 

The man crossed his arms, unamused. “I remember who you are.”

 

Lance rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “Greeeat. Well, yeah, I heard I caused, like, a big deal here last night. Sorry about that.”

 

A little of the ferocity left the larger man’s face, and he actually managed a small lift of the lips. He shrugged, arms still crossed. “No one got hurt. Don’t worry too much about it. Now, did you really come all the way back here to apologize to a bartender?”

 

Ah. This was probably the bartender Pidge mentioned, the one who’d stopped the fight. He had that kind of air to him, like a father-type. Like he seemed disappointed in Lance, but not like he was going to hold it over him forever. He had an expression that seemed to say the events of the previous night and their hang-over consequences of the morning were going to be Lance’s teachers, not him.

 

“Yeah, not really. See, I was wondering if you saw me meeting anyone last night.” Lance waved his arms around slightly. “I mean, did I seem exceptionally excited after meeting anyone? Like whole-new-color-scheme excited?”

 

The bartender’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Looking for a soul mate?” he asked, surprised. Then he couldn’t help but crack a grin. “Oh man. Were you too drunk to remember who they are?”

 

Lance groaned and spun in a circle. “Listen, I know it sounds awful, alright? Just – did you see me meet anyone or not?”

 

The teasing smile faded, replaced by a considering frown. The bartender raised his eyes to the ceiling as he thought back, but after a moment he just shook his head. “No. Sorry. I didn’t see you interacting with anyone more than others. Mostly you stayed with your friends. You were pretty drunk, obviously, and they were keeping you on your feet. I think you left right about when you couldn’t stand up straight anymore. But you didn’t seem particularly interested in anyone.”

 

Lance sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Great,” he groaned. Did he have any other breadcrumbs of hope? Should he check the other bars and clubs? The day was beyond frustrating already, and damn there were a lot of blue things in the world! Lance covered his eyes to block out the colors and to try avoiding an even worse headache than his hang over was already giving him.

 

“Listen,” the bartender said, dropping his folded arms. “I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have tried to tease you about it. I’d like to help. Do you have any clues?”

 

“They have blue eyes,” Lance said, but through his hands it sounded hopeless.

 

“Hm. Do you know the gender, maybe?” This bartender was so nice, trying to help some random drunk fool.

 

Lance let out a whine of a laugh. “Ha! Of course not! That’d be too easy! Of course I have to be bisexual, so it could be literally anyone in the city! Of course! Because this is my life!” He threw his arms out wide with a gasp of exasperation.

 

The bartender put a calming hand on his shoulder and spoke tenderly. Wow, he was good at this whole de-escalation thing. “Hey now, calm down. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. They’re your soul mate, right? Then you’ve got to meet more than once. You’re destined to make each other insane and happy for the rest of your lives, you know?”

 

Of course he had a point. Lance nodded and took a deep breath. The bartender was right. There was no need to panic. Just because Pidge hadn’t seem hopeful didn’t mean there was no hope. This was his soul mate!  They were bound to bump into each other sooner rather than later.

 

“Thanks. I’m Lance, by the way,” he said, holding his hand out to shake.

 

“Takeshi, but my friends call me Shiro.” They shook hands like they were sealing a deal. “Listen, I’ll keep an eye out, alright? If anyone else comes looking, I’ll give you a call. Okay?”

 

“Okay? Better than okay!” Lance’s heart felt swollen with renewed enthusiasm. He might have a shot at finding his soul mate today after all. Because if they were like Lance, they were out searching for him too. “Thank you so much!”

 

Shiro laughed, slightly embarrassed. “So, uh, on a completely not flirting level, can I get your number?”

 

Lance laughed too and pulled out his phone. They exchanged numbers, and then Shiro walked Lance to the door. The club wasn’t technically open to guests, so Lance wasn’t allowed to stay inside. That was fine. His soul mate wasn’t there anyway. Lance waved goodbye to Shiro at the door and headed down the sidewalk just as a red motorcycle zipped around the building into the tiny parking lot. Something about the rider seemed familiar, and Lance stared at the corner of the building long after the bike was no longer in view, trying to figure out why.

 

“Ah!” Lance jumped and scurried in the opposite direction.  The rider’s jacket looked exactly like the one his neighbor had been wearing an hour ago! Lance did NOT feel like getting yelled at about the door thing if the rider turned out to be his neighbor.

 

But why would his neighbor be at the Bulgogian anyway? Lance was being paranoid! Oh well. Too late now. He’d already run two blocks away.

 

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Lance tried to pretend he wasn’t as lame as he currently felt. The Fripping Bulgogian was a bust, but it wouldn’t hurt to check the other bars and clubs he’d visited, right? Or maybe he’d run into his soul mate on the walk.

 

So between the Bulgogian and the Garrison, they’d stopped at a bar, right? Squinting around the street, Lance tried to remember which one Hunk had said. Ah! He spotted the familiar sign across the street at the next intersection. The Balmera had great food, and Hunk dragged Lance there several times on their regular hang out days. Sure, you couldn’t drink under 21 – hell you couldn’t even get in if you weren’t 21 and it was after eight p.m. – but the food was worth a trip anyway.

 

The waiter this morning was a stout young man named Rax, but he admitted that he hadn’t worked the night before.

 

“My sister did, though, and I’m sure she would have told me if someone had found their soul mate. She goes gaga for that stuff. Can’t get her to NOT tell me when it happens at the bar, you know?” he said, looking annoyed at the very idea.

 

“Ooookay, then.” Lance glanced around the bar, trying to remember meeting someone in here last night, but he had no clear memories of this ‘save the planet’ style locale. “Well thanks anyway, Rex.”

 

“Rax.”

 

“Right. Thanks anyway.”

 

Lance tapped the bar chair nearest him and sighed. Then he tore his eyes from the rainforest mural on the back wall and left, out into the bright sunlight. The encouragement he’d gotten from Shiro was fading away faster than a puddle on summer-hot cement. He’d failed again to find any clues.

 

No luck at the Bulgogian. No luck at the Balmera. The only place left was the Garrison. Lance did have memories of the Garrison, but they got very iffy near the end of his time there. It was possible he’d met his soul mate there, had bumped into them as he’d left the club. But then… if it had been on the way out, would anyone have noticed? Would anyone remember?

 

He dialed Hunk on the walk to the Garrison. If anyone could renew the optimism Shiro had given him, it would be Hunk.

 

“Damn it, Hunk. With my luck, I bumped them when I tried to walk through the door at the same time, we both cussed at each other, and then I left before they could notice the color change in the dark club,” he said, running his free hand through his hair. “What if I never find them?”

 

“Sure you will!” Hunk assured cheerily. Whether he was legitimately excited or faking it, Lance couldn’t tell. “You’re Soul Mates. Capital S. Captial M, bro. You can’t give up on them now. They’re probably looking for you too, and you’ll bump into them again before the day is over! Have faith!”

 

Under the weight of all that optimism, Lance couldn’t help but smile. The call was working its magic. “You’re right. I’ve got to stay positive. That’d be a terrible first impression when we meet! Er. Terrible SECOND impression.”

 

“That’s the spirit!” Hunk cheered. “And when you find them, let me know. I’m gonna bake you the biggest, most delicious celebratory cake in the history of cakes. Even better than the one I made you for yesterday.”

 

“Hunk, you’re the literal best friend a guy could ask for.” Lance beamed up at the sky, which was edging slowly toward evening. He’d woken up late from the hang over and missed lunch, and in a few hours it would be dinner time. Suddenly, he realized he hadn’t eaten today. That didn’t matter. He’d eat when he found his soul mate. A proper first date.

 

“No problem, buddy. Oh! By the way, your supervisor called me. Apparently you didn’t answer your phone this morning when she called and she was worried you got alcohol poisoning from your crazy birthday party. I mean she called because you missed work today, but she’s giving you a pass and just using a sick day for you, but you’re not to let it happen again – that’s her words, not mine.” Hunk was turning this message into an impressive rant, but Lance stopped him short.

 

“Thank, bud. I’ll shoot her a text. I’ve got one more place to check and then I’ll head home, alright?” Lance could see the Garrison down the street and tried not to get too excited.

 

“Sure thing. I’ll come upstairs with some food when you do, and we can watch the Discovery Channel.”

 

“You’re such a nerd.” Lance laughed. They said their goodbyes and then Lance slipped his phone back into his pocket.

 

The Garrison was not like other clubs. The Garrison had flight simulators in their ‘blue room’, where the music wasn’t quite as loud and only your friends shouted at you for flying drunk. The Garrison bar was set up like a military mess hall. Half of the counter displayed fake food as though it were real, with sneeze guards and everything. The other half was open, so the bartenders could hand over drinks and food like a normal bar. Then, of course, was the large dance floor, which took up most of the building and was currently being cleaned by staff dressed in military fatigues.

 

Lance edged around the dance floor, cutting through the few tables set up against the right wall, and made it to the bar. A man was there, flipping through paperwork and looking so intense that Lance almost didn’t want to speak up and distract him.

 

“Excuse me, Sir,” he said despite his concern.

 

“Commander,” the man said without looking up. He was dark skinned and tall, and one of his eyes seemed to be permanently squinting.

 

“Sorry?”

 

He set his paperwork down and glared down his nose at Lance. One of his eyes was most definitely stuck in a permanent squint, but it was a heated glare that was causing him to look at Lance like he was an insect.

 

“I am not a ‘Sir’. I am Commander Iverson. Civilians aren’t allowed on site before business hours, so I’m curious why you’re here, mucking up my place of business.” He frowned hard, and Lance swallowed thickly.

 

“Well-“

 

“Speak up, son. Speak like you mean it or find the door.”

 

Damn this dude was intimidating! Lance cleared his throat. “I was here last night, S- Commander!” Maybe he was talking too loud now? “Is anyone here that was working then? I’m trying to find my- my friend!”

 

Iverson didn’t seem to care that Lance had just basically shouted at him, but he didn’t seem concerned either. He grunted. “No one here worked last night but me, and I don’t recall seeing your face. But if your friend is missing, I’d say call the police. It’s more effective than running around on your own. Leave the search to the professionals, boy.”

 

Lance wanted to argue that he wasn’t a ‘boy’ – After all, he’d just celebrated becoming a full-fledged adult the night before – but Iverson kept going, launching into a full lecture about the arrogance of youth to think Lance could find someone if the officials couldn’t do it. There was no way to get a word in, and eventually Lance stopped wanting to. He groaned.

 

“Fine!” he shouted, effectively cutting off Iverson. Lance threw his arms out. “I get it, old man, okay?! Jesus!”

 

And he stormed out, hearing Iverson complain loudly about Lance’s rudeness the whole way. Damn, the Garrison was a fun place to go drinking, but hell if Lance would ever work there. The Iverson guy sounded like a drill sergeant! Which, considering his intent to be called by a military title, maybe he’d actually been a drill sergeant.  Whatever. Lance didn’t look back or calm down until he was two blocks from the club. Only then did it sink in that he’d hit another dead end.

 

He dropped to the curb and sat down, cross-legged. Groaning, he rubbed his hands over his face and then back over his short hair. His optimism had run out. He’d checked back at all the venues from last night. Dead ends everywhere. Iverson’s scolding didn’t help his mood, and now all he could think about was how he’d lost his soul mate. Of fucking course he did. Because Lance was an idiot and decided to get black out drunk on his birthday and completely forget who it was that had lit the world up with color and filled out the canvas of his life! He doubted even Shiro or Hunk could convince him he wasn’t a loser this time.

 

God, he was being mushy and depressing at the same time!

 

But no amount of well-intentioned words would magically bring Lance’s memory from the night before back from whatever alcohol gutter it got lost in. No encouraging sentiments were going to pull his soul mate out of thin air, or have them stepping off a bus or out of a cab or, you know, getting off a motorcycle and smiling at him. Nope. He’d lost them. Now he’d just have to hope the universe brought them back together in a way that had them recognizing each other… again.

 

Sighing, he hefted himself back to his feet and waved down a passing cab. It would be dinner time when he got home; assuming traffic didn’t die on the way there. Sitting in the back of the cab, he texted Hunk to tell him so. Hopefully his best friend would be prepared with endless comfort food for when they watched the Discovery Channel, because it was going to take Lance at least four servings of Hunk’s pudding to decide he was ready to laugh at animal documentaries or get invested in the science shows.

 

Traffic moved as smooth as expected, which wasn’t super smooth but at least the roads hadn’t turned into parking lots. When they arrived back at the apartment complex, Lance paid the driver and then stepped into his building. Part of him wanted to take the stairs and be despondent for a little longer, but another part of him reasoned that he was being too dramatic and he’d just look pathetic when he got to his floor, panting for breath.

 

Elevator it was. The ride was silent and uneventful, and just a tad too short. Lance shuffled out of the lift and down the hall. His eyes glanced at the first apartment door, remembering how he’d smacked the guy inside that morning. That guy had been kinda hot. Maybe Lance could- Since he hadn’t found his soul mate, maybe he- But maybe that guy already had a soul mate? And Lance hadn’t made a good first impression anyway.

 

Never mind.

 

Lance paused in front of his door, sighed again, and dug in his pocket for his key. Huh? He dug in his other pocket, then his jacket pockets, then his pants pockets again. Where was his apartment key? Hadn’t he grabbed it on his way out? He tried to remember. Cell phone. Wallet. Had he grabbed his key? Had he even locked the door?!

 

He tried the handle and found it securely locked. So… That had to mean Lance locked it, right? But then where was his key? When had he dropped it? He’d been all over town AGAIN today. It could be anywhere! First his soul mate and now his apartment key!?

 

Groaning, Lance leaned his head against the door. This was so stupid. He was so stupid. Irritation and self-loathing bubbled through him and he smacked his hands flat against the door beside his head. “This is so stupid!” he shouted.

 

“Um.” A voice nearby drew him from his anger and left him stunned. He snapped back from his door and looked toward the elevator. The guy from this morning was standing there, looking uncomfortable, just a few feet away. “You alright?”

 

“All…right?” Lance repeated, confused. Shouldn’t this guy be yelling at Lance about this morning? Why was he asking if _Lance_ was okay?

 

The mullet haired young man cleared his throat, his eyes darting momentarily away. Then he fished in his pocket and pulled out a key. “You’re probably looking for this.” He held it out for Lance to take and then grabbed up Lance’s hand when the other didn’t reach for it. He forced Lance to take the key and then shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “What?” he grunted. “Stop looking at me like you’re drunk again. Just- Just unlock your door, idiot.”

 

Lance raised an eyebrow but tried the key anyway. To his surprise, the lock slid out and he was able to open the door. His jaw dropped and he stared at the key in the lock as though it were a potentially deadly snake. How had his neighbor gotten his key?!

 

“How did- How?!” he exclaimed, not really talking to anyone. Then he turned to his neighbor, who looked even more flustered than before. The pale man’s cheeks were turning red and he looked away from Lance under the other’s scrutiny. “How did you get my key?”

 

The pale guy frowned. “You left it in your doorknob last night after you bowled me over. You were so hammered that you didn’t notice, and I was so surprised that I didn’t either until it was too late to tell you. I didn’t want to barge into your place, so I just… took it. For safekeeping. I locked it for you this morning, too, after you hit me with my door.”

 

Lance laughed, something half-hysterical. “I bowled you over! I hit you with a door! Oh my god! I am the worst neighbor in the history of- I am SO sorry! I don’t remember anything from last night, but I’m sure I didn’t mean to run into you – literally. I didn’t do anything else weird, did I? I’ve never been that drunk before.”

 

His neighbor frowned again, but it looked almost embarrassed. “You-“ He hesitated. “I work a lot of weird shifts, mostly deliveries for my brother. He works at a club, the Bulgogian? I make runs for supplies and deliver mobile orders for stuff. Anyway, I was heading out for a last minute run my brother texted me about and you were getting off the elevator. You were singing… I think.”

 

“You think?” Lance asked, incredulous. Was his singing that bad when he was drunk?

 

“I don’t know. You weren’t saying words. Not really. Just- You were trying to dance and walk and sing and hum all at the same time, or something. All I know is your eyes were closed and you were jumping around, and you knocked me over. Then you tripped over my feet and fell right on top of me!”

 

“Damn, dude. I am so-“

 

“You looked me in the eyes and said ‘Wow. Nice eyes. Never seen those before.’ Then you rolled off and went inside like nothing happened.” The neighbor pressed his lips together and then raised his gaze up from the floor.

 

That’s when Lance really took in his face. No, not his face. His eyes. His neighbor had blue eyes, like a stormy sea. It wasn’t the pale blue of the sky or the powder blue of the hallway. They weren’t the vibrant, deep blue of Lance’s shirt sleeves either… but they were still blue. Was it possible?

 

“So-,” his neighbor began again, looking defiant. “Well?”

 

“Well?” Lance asked, confused. A new sort of panic was rising in him. “What’s well? I hit my soul mate in the face with a door!” He covered his face with both hands and then opted to just cover his big mouth instead. “I mean,” he said through his fingers. “Aren’t you? My soul mate, I mean.”

 

His neighbor sighed through his nose, tension leaving his shoulders. He held out his hand to Lance. “I’m Keith.”

 

Lance lowered his hands so he could return the shake. “Lance.”

 

Keith didn’t pull back as he said, “I’d never seen eyes like mine either until last night. So I guess… thanks for that?”

 

A smile broke on Lance’s face and then infected Keith’s. They stood there, hands clasped and smiling at each other for way longer than necessary. It was a little awkward, but Lance didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t know what else to say. He’d spent the whole day looking for his soul mate, and his soul mate had been next door the whole time! If Lance had just slowed down a little, he never would have had to go on his wild goose chase.

 

The world was ironic sometimes. Most of the time. All of the time.

 

The elevator dinged and opened. Hunk stepped out, his hands full of food, but he paused by Keith’s door when he noticed the two young men standing there. He took in their locked hands, their smiling faces. His own dark face grinned and he gasped.

 

“Oh my gosh. We’re totally going to need more food. I’m calling Pidge and we’re turning this into a party.” He shifted the food so he could pull out his phone and call his roommate.

 

Lance let out a chuckle and squeezed Keith’s hand. “So, uh, wanna have a super late lunch with us? I’ve been looking for you all day and I’m starving.”

 

There was nervousness in Keith’s blue eyes, in the tilt of his mouth, but he considered the offer. Finally, he nodded. “I guess. I don’t have any deliveries tonight. I mean, I was going to meet my brother for food, but I’ll text him real quick and- Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come.”

 

“Awesome.”

 

Pidge teased him about wasting his whole day when she found out who Keith was. Hunk was just happy it all ended well and without a need for three bowls of pudding, since he’d only made two. And two days later, Lance met Keith’s brother and got the biggest hug imaginable from the bartender at the Bulgogian. Shiro maybe even cried a little. It made Keith blush and that made Lance’s insides go squiggly, and basically Lance decided he’d never get black out drunk again, because he didn’t want to miss out on anything involving Keith ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> If the urge strikes you, you may translate this fic into your native language or draw fanart. I just ask that you give credit to/link back to the original. And please post a link to where I can find the new work so I can share it with others on the fic. ^_^


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